Office Confrontations Ch. 03

Marshall sat in the suite assigned to their project on that early Monday morning, large coffee in hand. His three day weekend should have been filled with relaxation and carefree couch lounging. Instead, Marshall spent the entire weekend on edge, running through all the awful scenarios Monday could turn into; from Kyle telling the entire office what they'd done together in spite to Kyle weeping and begging him to come back, and everything in between. Thankfully, Marshall hadn't heard any whispering of his impending gay reputation or been confronted by the homophobic workers of the company. So far, Kyle hadn't breathed a word. That didn't stop Marshall from panicking, however.

Funny, a week ago Marshall had panicked in much the same way, except his dream became a living nightmare, with gay sex and cum galore. And all of it was one-sided.

He let Kyle get him off. Hell, Marshall begged Kyle to get him off. What was wrong with him?

That's it, I'm having myself committed, Marshall decided as he began sifting through that day's workload. Obviously I've lost my mind.

He sat in his usual spot and in the center of the table a box of bagels awaited hungry employees. Marshall didn't know why he even tried to do anything nice for that freak. He should have been preparing to scream at Kyle for violating him and handcuffing him to a bed, not purchasing pastries. He was certainly terrified of being violated again.

Bastard. He's such a―

The door clicked open and Marshall froze, paling as the breath rushed out of him. His eyes sought the door as Kyle's slumped frame slipped past the slim opening. Marshall opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't find the words. It was as if the argument died on his lips. Kyle himself didn't speak or make eye contact, but then again the shy Kyle never did. Sometimes he might cough and sputter out a 'g-gu-guh-good morn-morning' but more often than not he ducked his head and shuffled into his seat, handing over Marshall's half of the work.

Kyle did go straight to a seat, except he sat on the complete opposite side of the table, barely a foot from the door. Without acknowledging Marshall once, he pored over a handful of revenue files.

Marshall didn't know what to say. Kyle was odd, but not this odd. Dammit! Why couldn't Kyle just act like a normal fucking person? Marshall grew more and more irritated, a knee-jerk reaction to confusion.

"Kyle!" Marshall snapped, though he winced at the volume of his voice and the harsh tone he hadn't expected to use. Kyle flinched but didn't look up. His pen slowed to a stop across the page and he sighed.

"Ye-yes?" Kyle inquired quietly, nearly inaudible.

"You hungry? I grabbed bagels." Marshall resisted the urge to bash his skull into the table. Really? That's what he asked? Of all the things he could inquire about, he chose breakfast as the topic of conversation? Kyle looked up, but his eyes were blank and his face held no emotion.

"N-no th-thanks. I'm no-not hungry." With that he returned his attention to he paperwork before him.

"Oh, okay." Marshall replied lamely. Though he pulled out his own paperwork and began to work, he kept looking up to stare at Kyle. He ended up wasting an hour and a half on a single file, and by the time lunch came around he still had over half of his paperwork to finish. Kyle, on the other hand, finished just about all of his paperwork, leaving only a slim stack on the table as he dashed out the door as fast as his feet could take him. Kyle hadn't spoken more than a curt word or two the entire three hours together, no matter how many times Marshall tried to get him to open up.

The rest of the day passed much the same, with little communication and virtually no work done on Marshall's part. Kyle finished his stack and dutifully began working on Marshall's as well, but he still didn't breathe a word, and he kept his distance, ducking his head as he snatched a handful of papers with shaking hands.

Marshall was stumped. He didn't like Kyle's pathetic whiny attitude or the sniveling every time someone walked by or had anything to say to him, nor did he particularly care for the controlling molester attitude, but empty, emotionless Kyle was the worst yet.

And it was all Marshall's fault. He hated admitting that. Hated it. Usually Marshall had no qualms with blaming other people, but Kyle's change couldn't be sloughed off no matter how much Marshall wanted to. However, there were some things not even guilt could change. Marshall would not apologize.

Whatever Kyle's problem was, it didn't concern Marshall -- no matter how pissed off Marshall got over the empty shell Kyle became -- and he held onto that belief for two full weeks, ignoring Kyle as much as he was being ignored. Even so, Marshall continued to buy pastries and coffee, and always tossed Kyle's untouched portion at the end of the day.

That was, until Marshall spotted Clara cornering Kyle in the lunch room and Kyle's nervous, but firm, brush off.

"Ky-ky, are you okay? You've been so quiet lately, more than usual." She asked, rubbing his shoulder comfortingly. Kyle attempted to leave, pulling from her grip, and she stepped in front of him, effectively cutting him off.

"I know something's wrong. You're not yourself." Clara pleaded.

"Fo-forget it." Kyle muttered. Marshall had to strain to hear him speak. "I'll s-see you la-later." Clara refused to be ignored, and stepped closer, dropping her voice to a whisper.

"Leave me alone. You don't know anything about me, so get your disgusting, diseased ass away from me." he snapped, storming off and leaving a red-eyed Clara behind. Marshall rushed to her side.

"Clara, ignore him, he's..." Marshall sighed. He didn't know what was wrong with Kyle but something was up. Not that he could explain the situation to Clara, who sniffled and wiped her eyes with quivering hands.

"No, he's right." Her cheeks darkened from leaking mascara, contrasting vividly from the red blush of shame creeping across her skin. "I'm a disgusting whore." She took off, sobbing and pushing people out of the way as she bolted to the girl's bathroom.

That's it. Marshall clenched his jaw and stalked out of the lunch room to hunt Kyle down. He's gone too far this time. Marshall caught Kyle stepping into the suite, shoving him through the door and slamming it behind them.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Marshall demanded. "Where do you get off making an innocent woman cry?" Kyle straightened and shoved back, glaring fiercely.

"Innocent?" Kyle scoffed. "She's fucked half the staff and you're calling her innocent? I hadn't realized you were so naïve."

"Fuck you. She was genuinely worried about you and you treated her like shit." Marshall ignored the truth about Clara's indiscretions -- and his own prejudices about her sexual activity. Having sex didn't make Clara a bad person, no matter how many people she brought to her dirty sheets.

"Oh, what's that pot? Calling the kettle black? You fucking hypocrite, you're the biggest user in the tri-state area and you're defending the skank? Why don't you use your brain for once, empty as it is, before opening your mouth." Kyle sneered. "You of all people have no right to judge me for that comment."

"Bullshit." Marshall snarled. "You hurt her because you're pissed at me, and that's fucked up." Marshall folded his arms across his chest, nails digging crescents into his forearms. Kyle rolled his eyes and curled his lip.

"Stop the presses, Marshall Marx just took responsibility for his own actions." Kyle clapped slowly, disdain dripping from his voice. "And still you pretend you don't know what you did wrong."

"I don't!" Marshall shouted back, indignant.

"Liar!" Kyle yelled just as loudly(good thing the walls were insulated). "You're always in denial. Just fucking admit the truth. For once in your life own up to it." Kyle gripped Marshall's shoulders roughly, physically shaking him. Marshall glared, refusing to speak.

"Fine. You want a reason?" Kyle ground out between clenched teeth, pulling Marshall until they were almost nose-to-nose.

"I'm sick of you pretending this is one-sided. I see the looks you give me when you think I'm not looking."

"Shut up, I'm not done." Kyle growled. "You want me. Don't fucking deny it, you do. You practically begged me to fuck you, the way you moaned and spread your legs for me. Even now." Kyle released his shoulders and dug his hands into Marshall's dick, barely a scrap of fabric between, and squeezed painfully tight. Marshall was horrified. Partially because he was being groped again at work, but mostly because he realized he was as hard as steel, stiffening even more at Kyle's touch. He gaped, eyes boggling from his skull as he nearly collapsed at the feeling, knees weakening beneath him.

"There, see? But the second I let you go, you'll try to explain away the reaction. As if it's not blatantly obvious that you're a flaming faggot." Marshall's face flushed of its own accord. Kyle's chest heaved with each breath, and their torsos pressed against each other at the end of each inhale.

Kyle's eyes were filled with emotion, like the entire two weeks he'd been dead inside had stored up all his emotion for that exact moment. His eyebrows furrowed and his jaw clenched tight, but Marshall knew Kyle hid something beneath the fury, he could almost see it. Their eyes locked and a pregnant silence stretched between them.

Marshall dropped his gaze to Kyle's lips, subconsciously licking his own as he remembered their mouths embracing in the darkened bedroom. Marshall couldn't remember when his anger melted away and...something else took up its place. He tried to fight the unidentifiable emotion physically by pulling back from Kyle's touch, only succeeding in backing himself against the door. Kyle smiled, but there was no humor in it, only heavy disappointment.

"Cue the evasive maneuvers." Kyle sighed quietly. He let go of Marshall's groin and cupped Marshall's cheeks with both hands, cradling his face as he leaned closer.

"I meant what I said. I'm not waiting around for you to get a clue. I can't and I won't." Marshall had stopped fighting the moment Kyle began to speak, holding his breath tight in his lungs. Kyle exhaled slowly, warm breath ghosting across Marshall's neck. He shuddered beneath Kyle's touch, and he could do nothing to prevent it.

"I'm tired of these games." Kyle whispered, closing his eyes. Marshall sucked in a breath. He'd said the exact tame thing the first and only night they'd been together. The verbal slap boiled in Marshall's chest, caustic as it ate away inside, festering like disease. Everything was flying out of proportion.

Slowly, and noticeably so, as if giving time for Marshall to resist or turn away, Kyle brought their lips together, devouring Marshall's resistance. The kiss started off slow and tenuous, but quickly picked up speed as the need built in them both. Soon they were breathless and Marshall had his hands wrapped tight around Kyle's neck, refusing to let go.

Eventually Kyle's hands reached up to grip Marshall's, firmly pulling away from his unrelenting hold. He held Marshall's hands, lacing their fingers together at his shoulders.

"Marshall..." He sighed and released Marshall completely, stepping back. He turned, eyes searching Marshall's once before dropping to the floor.

Before Marshall could even realize what had happened, Kyle was gone, right out the door. His stuff still splayed out untouched on the table, but Marshall doubted he'd come back for it.

Fuck. Fuck!

* * *

Marshall had no idea how long he stood there staring at the table of paperwork, but eventually his body moved of its own accord, and he began mechanically straightening the files, organizing them and tucking them into Kyle's long-forgotten briefcase, hefting both Kyle's and his own briefcase in each hand. There was no way he could get back to work, not after that exchange, so he slipped out of the suite toward the elevator on autopilot.

He felt numb everywhere. His thoughts swam carelessly through his conscious but nothing stuck.

Nothing but the look on Kyle's face as he walked away. He couldn't erase that last moment no matter what he did.

Sighing, Marshall pulled out his phone and dialed the head honcho's secretary, shoving one of the briefcases under his arm to free a hand.

"This is Mr. Bradley's office, Michelle speaking."

"Marshall Marx, sixth floor. Patch me through? It's an emergency."

"Oh, my. Hold for just one moment, Mr. Marx." After a brief stint with a silent phone line and the repetitive click of the elevator shaft, the brusque voice of Mr. Bradley crackled through the speakers.

"What is it Marx?" He intoned, and the irritation was plain in his voice.

"Sir, my apologies for interrupting your day. Unfortunately Mr. Yates came down with a nasty case of food poisoning. He managed to alleviate himself in the restroom but I'm driving him home, since he has no one to call himself." Marshall lied through his teeth. "I'll have today's workload from the both of us on your desk tomorrow morning, I promise sir." Mr. Bradley took a deep, dramatic inhale before speaking.

"Well, alright. But I want both of you back in the office tomorrow, you hear? If Mr. Yates doesn't show up he better be damn sure to send a doctor's note with you."

"Of course, sir. Thank you." Marshall ended the call just before the elevator signaled the parking garage. It was barely noon but he needed a drink, and fast.

Marshall already polished off the last of the 18-pack from two weeks prior and hadn't gotten around to buying another. No matter, he wanted an intoxication strong enough to knock him senseless, nothing meager beer could provide.

Thank goodness bars littered the downtown area near his apartment. The drive over felt agonizingly long, and he continually tapped the steering wheel impatiently at every red light and under-the-speed-limit driver. Then again, he didn't care once he plopped down onto a bar stool and ordered up a few shots of whiskey. Solitude, liquor, and a fairly quiet pub to drown his liver in was all Marshall needed. After his fourth shot, Marshall was really feeling woozy.

He ordered another.

"Looks like I'm not the only one who likes to get a little tipsy in the middle of the afternoon."

Marshall was so startled by the abrupt voice he nearly slopped half the shot down his front. He was lucky he hadn't actually picked up the glass before she spoke.

And she certainly was a she. Enormous blue eyes, faintly tanned skin, and hair the color of burnished copper, billowing to her shoulders, there was no mistaking her for anything but a woman in her late twenties. Marshall's eyes drifted down her full, slight hourglass figure(she barely pushed past the thin-as-a-rail look) and back up to her face.

She stared at him, smiling less than innocently, eyes glinting and lip curled up slightly at the corner.

"You going to offer your name? Or are you even capable of speech?" She teased, pressing a finger to his shoulder and pushing lightly. Marshall's jaw dropped but he quickly regained composure, thrusting out his hand.

"My name's Marshall. Sorry, it's been a long day." She laughed.

"It's only one o'clock." She commented, pointing at the clock hanging above the bar, ticking slowly.

"Wow, that late?" He joked, feigning surprise with that home alone "o" expression. She laughed again, squeezing his forearm.

"I'm Shelly. You're funnier than I expected." Marshall, even in his fairly drunken state, had a feeling she didn't really mean it. Just how desperate was she?

Then again, did he have any right to judge? He'd been getting hard for Kyle thanks to his dry spell(he refused to count Kyle's hand as getting action and breaking his dry spell, but rather a result of pent up needs). He gave her a friendly smile.

Hell, if we're both in the same boat we might as well help each other out.

"Nice to meet you, Shelly. Can I buy you a drink?" He offered. As Marshall expected, she took the bait, beaming bright and bouncing in her chair(definitely trying to jiggle her god-given, or plastic surgeon-given, gifts, he couldn't tell which).

"I'd love one!" She exclaimed, sliding her fingers up his arm. "A martini would be fabulous." She smiled coyly and fluttered her eyelashes. Marshall nodded to the bartender, who immediately stopped grinning knowingly and went to work. Marshall made a mental note to reduce his spending budget for a while, otherwise it looked to be a ramen-and-tap-water week until his next paycheck, with all the money he was spending. Really, though, who cared if he had to scrape by for a week or two?

It was worth it if he could get Kyle's face out of his mind.

"So what brings you to a bar at one in the afternoon on a Wednesday?" He asked, ordering a cheap beer rather than more hard liquor.

"Nothing all that exciting. I only work nights, and last night was a real drag. I figured getting a good buzz on would improve matters." She nodded to the bartender as he set the tall, glistening martini glass in front of her. Shelly moved purposely slowly as she bent forward to lick the rim of the glass, taking a sip and practically moaning.

"So good." Shelly smiled and winked at Marshall before taking another, deeper drought. "How about you?" Marshall shrugged, lifting the beer to his lips to give him a moment to think up a good excuse.

"Shitty day at work. I ended up leaving early and the comfort of alcohol is very soothing to the soul." He replied vaguely. No way in hell was he going to tell anyone, even a strange horny chick like Shelly, exactly why he thought turning to pickling his liver was the only solution.

"How dreadful! You need to put work right out of your mind." Shelly leaned closer, lowering her tone to a whisper. "I'm sure I could help you with that." Marshall never in his life hesitated at such a blunt offer(excluding that run-in with Clara) but sitting next to the moderately attractive - if a bit brusque - woman, Marshall was suddenly uncertain.

Then Kyle's face flashed before his eyes, invading his thoughts like a damn virus, and that settled the matter.

"Sure, my place isn't far."

* * *

Bringing a girl home on a buzz at two in the afternoon was new, and not exactly something Marshall ever wanted to repeat. Shelly giggled flirtatiously and clung to him the entire way, only releasing him to go "freshen up" in the bathroom.

Now, laying on his own bed staring at his occupied bathroom, Marshall was starting to regret inviting her over. Allowing random women to know where he lived was definitely a no-no, but he knew he wasn't up to drive anywhere, and besides, they were only a few blocks from his apartment.

He shoved back the little voice in the back of his head that said he wasn't thinking about her at all, rather who he really wanted in his bed.

No. Marshall refused to think about that. He sat up straighter, committing to what he was about to do. He dug through the nightstand by his bed for a condom, knowing that would be necessary no matter who he brought home. Unplanned pregnancies were not in his future, he was sure.

The bathroom door opened and Shelly stepped out of the dark room in her lingerie. She must have planned on going home with someone, because her underwear matched perfectly. Black, with pink stars and hearts spaced sporadically apart. Marshall raked over her gently curved frame, at the firm, perky breasts and the soft swell of her hips. She was pretty small, too, barely topping 5'2".